Unlearning

Ooh-eee, this poem was not easy to write. And - there is so much relief and healing in putting the truth onto paper.

As a parent, I can think of memories with each of my children when I was not the mother I wished to be - often moments of impatience, frustration, overwhelm, or panic that overtook my system. Isn't it interesting how these memories stay with us? And there are so many other memories - memories of connection, or patience - that we don't remember.

Perhaps these painful memories don't stay with us to punish us, but to invite us to look again, to regard them with new eyes.

I remember this particular day well. My daughter was about two or three, and somehow I'd internalized the message that while you hold a baby, as that child grew into a toddler, you should ignore a child who was having a 'temper tantrum' - that if you comforted them when they were 'acting out,' you'd only be reinforcing negative behavior.

Somehow I believed that this was healthy mothering. Oh, sweet lord. So painful for all of us.

I'm so grateful for the mothers and teachers who helped me see and learn a different way. I'm so grateful for the compassion of life that helps us unlearn. I continue to hold that young mother and whisper love songs in her ear.

Unlearning

One spring afternoon, a woman stopped
to help when my young daughter,
sprawled out, lay crying on the sidewalk.
I tensed at her voice, one I heard
laced with judgment, and told her we
were fine. How is it, at twenty six,
I believed I was supposed to ignore
a crying toddler? That the most loving
thing I could do was to shut out
her wails, her eyes spilling over
with tears? When I remember
that moment I want to crumple
over in shame. I feel punched in my
heart, a fire in my guts. Then I want
to hold that young mother and
hold that young daughter
and hold every mother
who taught me the ABCs
of how to ignore a child's cry.

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